10 February 2008
Dear H
I hope this is a letter that lifts your heart in the same way as when I see or hear from you it will lift mine again. I hope it brings a smile and some good memories.
It is a beautiful Saturday morning and the sun is out at last. It feels like spring and all the daffodils and snowdrops are blossoming. The birds are singing and I even have a woodpecker on the birdfeeder today. It is a greater spotted woodpecker with a lovely red head.
Whenever I see dafs it reminds me of you. I used to take photos of you sitting in the daffodils every year from when you were just a few days old in your carry seat. Later in the Spring we would repeat this with the bluebells and I miss those photos very much as it was the time before digital cameras and you and Mum have most of them.
I still have some nice ones of you and each year whenever I see the dafs or bluebells I wonder if you continue to keep this tradition. We always said it was lovely to compare how much you had grown and blossomed year on year. When I was at School we had to learn a poem by heart. I always wondered why. Now I know. Maybe you know it to. Have a good valentines day this week. My heart is with you every day, not just Thursday Be happy Smile lots Love Dad
DAFFODILS
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:—
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed, and gazed, but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils
William Wordsworth
NB I was accused in court by L that it was weird a father sending a valentines card or flowers to his daughter. trying to suggest some inappropriate relationship! It was something her own father did every year until he died and was something she herself loved to receive. Knowing at least someone loved her. I think she treasured that card more than any i might send her. I picked up the tradition and only stopped to avoid causing you any further embarrassment or difficulty.
Comments